Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

January 23 rd

10:47 A.M.

You can do this.

You will not back down.

Lucy kept repeating that to herself as she was marched out of the bedroom she'd been stashed in when she was first brought to the house.

Someone had cleaned up her wounds properly, and she'd been given water to drink but nothing to eat and no clean clothes to wear. It wasn't the being dirty in and of itself that bothered her—although she'd love to be clean, she'd gone camping plenty of times and been longer without a shower—it was that it was another way for Raul Castillo to try to exert dominance over her. He thought if he kept her dirty and hungry, it gave him an edge.

He was wrong.

Stubborn might very well have been her middle name.

When you grew up with a condition that could make you vulnerable, and you didn't want to let that condition rule your entire life, you learned pretty quickly how to stand up for yourself and fight for what you wanted. If her parents had had their way, she would have been wrapped in bubble wrap and kept in the house her whole life. But what kind of life would that be?

Everything she had she'd worked hard for. Graduating high school at the top of her class, then the same at college with both her degrees. She'd aced the interview for Prey, and every single day she made sure she did the best she could do. When she allowed herself time just to have fun, she sought out the most adrenalin-pumping activities she could to remind herself that she was alive and could do whatever she wanted.

This might be the scariest thing she'd ever done and certainly had more adrenalin flooding her system than anything else she'd tried, but the same principle still applied. She was tough and strong, she did whatever it took to get to where she wanted to be, whether that be sweet-talking her parents at seven into letting her play football, or deep-sea diving in the ocean where it was so dark you couldn't see anything outside of the beam of your flashlight.

Survive.

Conquer.

Never show weakness.

When she was led downstairs into a basement, she kept her back straight and eyes wide open. No cowering. If Raul thought it was going to be easy to break her, he was wrong. He hadn't broken Scarlett, and he wasn't going to get to her either.

Because of what her friend had been through she knew what to expect, and she used the knowledge to mentally fortify herself. Before she'd made a couple of really good friends who she kept in contact with to this day, school had been lonely. The other kids called her a freak, excluded and bullied her, and she had become an expert at finding things to do on her own, usually reading, and pretending that being left out didn't bother her.

Of course, it had, but none of them had ever suspected, and they'd eventually grown tired of taunting her and never getting a response. In third grade when a new little girl had joined her class, they'd hit it off right away. The girl had had cancer and was in remission, but their medical histories had bonded them quickly, and Lucy had finally learned what it was like to fit in and not be treated like you were different.

She'd loved it and never looked back, but the memories of those years when she felt so alone and different lingered, and she could use them now to make her stronger.

In the middle of the basement, there was a large table with cuffs attached to the corners, it didn't take being a genius to figure out that was where she was going to be put.

As predicted, the two men flanking her led her over to it. They didn't ask her to get on, one of them just picked her up and laid her on it, using his superior size to hold her in place while her ankles and wrists were secured.

The awkward angle made her broken arm throb, but it was the least of her worries right now because a man in a crisp, white shirt with black suit pants came strolling in. Recognizing him from his picture, Lucy knew he was Raul Castillo, and with his slicked-back hair and toned body, she could see why women thought he was attractive.

Until you looked into his eyes anyway.

They were dead, and you could sense the malevolence that lived inside him.

"Ms. Elrod," he greeted her formally as though they were business associates having a meeting, and he hadn't brought her here against her will.

"Mr. Castillo," she replied, keeping her tone cool and willing her pulse to slow so it wasn't echoing in her ears.

An eyebrow quirked at her calm tone, and she knew she'd scored a point, even if it was a small one. While she had no intention of taunting the man, she also had no intention of giving him what he wanted. Not just the formula to the drug she and her friends had created, but she wasn't going to cry, scream, or beg, she was simply going to lay here and stare at him.

Not the best of plans, maybe, but what else could she do?

Prey knew the plane had crashed, and she had no doubt they'd be looking for her. Although she rated the chances of them finding her at pretty close to zero. No one was coming for her. Zander was dead, and even if he wasn't, she doubted he'd be of any help to her. So she was on her own. For now, she was going to play this calm, cool, and collected while she bid her time and waited for a moment to escape. Or even better, if she could find one then she was going to take the opportunity to kill Raul Castillo. She and her team deserved to live in peace without the threat of him coming after them again and again hanging over their heads.

"You should know I don't intend to give you the formula," she warned him. "None of us will so you may as well just give up."

Annoyance flared in his dark eyes. "I don't give up, Ms. Elrod."

Shrugging as best as she could with her wrists cuffed, she met his gaze squarely. "Then I don't know what to tell you, but you're wasting your time. I know what you did to Scarlett. How you had her beaten and whipped. About the drug you gave her. I won't insult both our intelligence by saying I'm not afraid, but I know how to control my fear."

"Even in the face of death, Ms. Elrod?" Raul mocked.

"I've been staring death in the face all my life." While it was unlikely her epilepsy would kill her outright, there was such a thing as sudden unexpected death in epilepsy, SUDEP, that killed more than one person out of every thousand with epilepsy each year. With her seizures not well controlled even with her medication, and the fact that her seizures were tonic- clonic, what used to be called grand mal, she was at higher risk of dying from SUDEP. As a small child, she'd been so afraid of her condition, but as she'd gotten older, learned more about it, and learned that life was never certain and tomorrow was not guaranteed, she'd mastered her fear.

She'd done it then, and she could do it now.

"Ah, yes, the epilepsy." There was clear distaste in his tone, and he looked disgusted by the thought that she had a condition she'd been born with.

Bad move on his part.

All her life there had been people who had looked down on her because of her epilepsy. Maybe they wouldn't outright say anything, but they would treat her like she was less than capable, like she needed someone to do simple things for her, like she was fragile.

That attitude always made her angry.

Most of the time she'd let it slide, just reiterate that there was nothing she couldn't do if she put her mind to it, but right now, she let it fuel her rage.

"Since your friend told you about the drug, I'm sure you're anxious to try it out for yourself, see what all the hype was about. Ms. Madden was lucky, I only gave her one dose then left her alone to think about her choices. I wonder how it would go if I kept injecting you over and over again? How long would you last, Ms. Elrod, before you caved and told me what I want to know?"

Dread pooled in her stomach, but Lucy kept her features schooled.

You can do this.

If you give up on yourself then you've already lost .

"I had promised my men that they could have their fun with your friend while she begged and pleaded for their touch to bring her relief, they were disappointed that we were interrupted last time. Let's see how long you last, shall we? My men are taking bets, whoever wins gets first round with you." Raul gave a soulless chuckle. "But don't worry, Ms. Elrod, they'll all get a turn."

Keeping her mask of control as the needle pricked her skin was hard, and when a flush of raging heat flooded her system a few seconds later, Lucy prayed she hadn't underestimated her own strength.

January 23 rd

2:18 P.M.

"We should just kill him and be done with it, he's too heavy to carry back to the truck."

Those were the words Zander regained consciousness to.

He had no idea how long he'd been out. The last thing he remembered was forcing his body to move even though he knew he was asking more from it than it was capable of giving. Remembered the blackness closing in on him. Then he remembered hazy recollections of panic about Lucy and dragging himself through the jungle, consumed with the need to get to her. Repeating that process over and over again throughout the hours between his fall over the cliff and his capture.

It was the feelings he remembered more than anything else.

Horrible, piercing sensations in his chest as he pictured all the things Raul could be doing to Lucy.

All because of him.

Because he'd failed her.

Failed his team.

Failed the woman who … made him think all things were possible.

Not something he was used to.

His childhood had taught him that life was already written before you took your first breath. That serving your country and not wasting time on frivolous things like love was all that mattered.

Scarlett had never been afraid to buck against the mold their family tried to stick them in, but he wasn't as brave as his twin.

He'd followed the path set before him like a good little soldier. Thought that if he served, worked hard, and made it into the elite Delta unit he could somehow earn his parents' love.

But he'd been wrong.

Their reactions in the wake of the ordeal that stole the lives of his teammates and broke something inside of him that could never be fixed, proved they were incapable of loving anything other than the military, and he'd given up trying.

Given up on everything.

If it wasn't for Lucy and her needing him, he would be perfectly content to let Raul's men do whatever they wanted to him.

But Lucy was depending on him, so he mustered some last reserves of strength he must have gathered during his last bout of unconsciousness.

In one swift move, he shoved his way out of the hold of the men carrying him and came up with one of their weapons in his hand.

"You mind telling me why you shot me?" he snarled, aiming his weapon at the closest man but confident he could drop all four of them before any could draw a weapon.

Surprise and a tiny bit of fear widened the gazes of each of the four sets of eyes looking back at him, and he smiled. It didn't matter that he probably looked half dead—felt it too—they knew he was a threat and they were right.

"We didn't shoot at you," one of them said nervously, his gaze darting to one of his friends as though they might be able to come up with a plan to regain control of the situation.

"Then why do I have a bullet wound in my arm?" he growled. Too much lost blood, not enough fluids, and no food or rest meant he was beyond cranky, add in his fear for Lucy and he was ready to rip these men apart with his bare hands.

"Because you got in the way, we were aiming for the girl," another said nervously.

Zander didn't recognize any of them so they weren't high up in Castillo's organization, just grunt men who were used to do tedious jobs like tracking through the jungle in search of him and Lucy.

"You were leading her away from the house," a third said, this time with a hint of accusation in his tone.

Of course, his position with the organization would be precarious after the crash, but there had to be a way to salvage it. Not only did his need for revenge hinge on it, but so did Lucy's life. He had to get back into that house, and not as a prisoner. If Raul doubted him, then it was all over, he could kiss Lucy's life goodbye.

"I have a concussion, idiots," he snapped, waving his free hand at his head and the injury he knew was still visible. "I thought I was leading her back to the house."

That explanation drew them up and he could see them all relax.

Good.

He'd gained their trust with the lie, he just had to hope he could keep Raul's as well.

"Misunderstanding," the fourth man said. "When we found the plane and saw you and the woman were heading away from the house, we thought maybe you weren't to be trusted. Orders were to bring you both in dead or alive, but alive if possible."

Making a scoffing noise, he glowered at the men. "Never occurred to you to think maybe we were hurt and didn't know what we were doing? And maybe you're the ones not to be trusted. Someone sabotaged my plane."

Glances were exchanged, and then one of the men hurried to reassure him. "It was not us. Mr. Castillo knows how valuable you are, he would not try to kill you. But his mole at Prey has gone rogue and is no longer following orders."

Anger surged inside him at the mention of the mole. A man—or woman—who had played a huge role in everything his sister had gone through. They better hope he didn't learn their identity because if he got his hands on them, he would make them pay a hundredfold for his twin's suffering.

Strength was slowly returning, but he faked a wobble and let the gun drop as though he were no longer able to hold it up. So far, the men believed he had led Lucy away from Castillo only because he had a concussion and didn't know what he was doing, not because he was trying to keep her safe. That was exactly what he wanted them to keep thinking.

The closest man reached out a steadying hand. "Let's get back to the house. Mr. Castillo's doctor can check you out and you can get some rest."

What he wanted to do was get to the house and then scour it top to bottom in search of Lucy. But that was his emotions talking. Logically speaking, if he wanted to keep her alive and get her out, he needed to regain some of his strength. While he might not be quite as weak as he was pretending to be, he wasn't in top shape, and this was all on him.

Besides, if the first words out of his mouth were demanding Lucy's location then he'd give himself away.

For a few hours he'd have to keep up the charade. Rest, eat, drink, take some painkillers, and get his body on the road to healing then he could figure out a plan to get Lucy out without breaking from his original plan.

And if he couldn't?

Then he already knew what choice he would make.

The one the guys on his team would want him to make.

Save the innocent.

That was why they did what they did. They wanted to rid the world of evil and make it a safer place for those they loved.

While Zander was not in any way claiming he loved Lucy Elrod, he couldn't deny there was an attraction there. More than physical attraction. From the moment he'd first laid eyes on her he'd felt something. Something that he couldn't explore because she was his sister's friend, and he wasn't sure how a woman fit into the life he had chosen.

But that something was still there whether he'd done anything about it or not.

Those hours they'd spent in the jungle together confirmed it.

As did the fact that he was prepared to throw away everything he had worked so hard for, everything he thought he needed to survive.

What did revenge matter if Lucy was dead?

The guys on his team would kick his backside if he prioritized vengeance over the life of a woman they knew he had some sort of feelings for. Feelings he'd never verbalized, not even to himself, but they knew. Knew he was different every time he went to catch up with his sister and saw her friends while he was there. Knew it was because of one of the women on Athena Team, although they might not have known which.

Half the guys on his team had been married, a couple had kids, and their last words and last thoughts had been for the loved ones they were leaving behind. There was no doubt in his mind that any one of them would do whatever it took to protect those loved ones. Because if they didn't, then all the horror they experienced would be for nothing.

Lucy's life trumped everything.

It had to.

If he let her die like she meant nothing, like her life was worthless and easily forfeited, then there was no way he would ever be able to look at himself in the mirror again.

Seven deaths rested on his conscience.

No more.

Especially not hers.